Regime Change
by GusJustGus1
Summary: In the family town of Muskego, Wisconsin, children have begun to disappear. While the police are dumbfounded, Sam & Dean ride in to discover the source of the trouble and put an end to it. On their journey, they enlist Castiel's help. Their discoveries lead them to locations which bring back heated memories for them both, causing Dean to turn on his brother.
1. Chapter 1

[Author Notes: This story will be uploaded one chapter at a time, building to a complete and already fully outlined story. I would like to dedicate this story to my girlfriend, Sydney. Hopefully this story will feed her obsession with Supernatural Fanfiction. I fully encourage readers to submit reviews and to message me directly. I am not willing to place this story in any specific season or to match with any specific story arch from cannon, but I would recommend being familiar with the show up to at least the sixth or seventh season.]

* * *

Chapter 1

CRASH!

Thunder rolls across the sky in the dark of night, the tempest of wind and rain whip through the trees. A single minivan braves the weather assaulting this peaceful neighborhood of Muskego, Wisconsin. It's brightly polished wheels slam into a deep puddle of water lining the edge of the street, sending a wet wave of leaves and dirt onto the pristine driveway of a large, white, two story house. Perfectly trimmed hedges line the walls and open porch leading to well manicured gardens of colorful flowers. Thick, green vines wind up the two pillars, usually welcoming any friendly visitors, but tonight, only greeting nature's violent ways. A wooden rocking chair rolls over the porch's varnished floor in the wind, being pulled onto its side.

In an upstairs bedroom, a groggy mother wakes to the cries of her newborn child.

"Ray, Ray." Her hand drops carelessly onto the sleeping form beside her, "It's your turn." Gently shaking the muscular form before her, she lets loose with despairing moans of encouragement.

"It's in the kitchen." Shrugging her away, trying not to stray too far from his dream filled sleep.

"No, Ray. She's needs you. I got her last time."

He groans acceptance, "Fine." Only now does he hear the unending cries of hunger from across the hall. Tossing his limp legs over the edge of the bed he mindlessly kicks for his slippers before venturing to the downstairs kitchen. "Warm milk, warm milk." The stairs creek under his feet, rhythmically, along with his child's cries.

The storm rages outside the windows, wind forcing braches to scratch against the glass. A roll of thunder precedes the beeping of the microwave, exclaiming the finale of the now warmed bottle of milk.

Quickly his hand flicks open the small door, retrieving the infant's delicacy. The high-pitched cries have only become more distinct against the calming patter of rain. The bottle's warmth radiates through his hand as he ascends the staircase back to his child's room.

"It's okay, daddy's coming."

The cries grow louder, more frustrated with each step. He walks down the hall to the nursery, placing his open hand on the doorknob.

Suddenly, the cries stop.

He pauses, "Maybe she wore herself out?" he thinks to himself. He softly pushes on the doorknob, tip-toing over to his child's crib. His eyes not yet accustomed to the pitch black of the room, he reaches a hand down to the bundled blankets.

Empty.

Frantically, he tosses his hands around the small mattress, dropping the still warm milk onto the floor. He races over to the light switch, stepping on a soft yellow duck with a "Squack." Smacking the wall switch, he spins, scanning the room: Empty crib, not on the floor, not behind the changing table.

"Tracy, Tracy!" He screams in horror at the realization that his child is gone without a trace.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I'm telling you, you missed out." Dean gripping the steering wheel of his classic '67 Impala, tosses his elbow out the window. The wind, rushing through his dark hair, cascading into the car as it barrels down the back roads of a Wisconsin night.

"Dude, you were drunk." Sam, scanning his newspaper, rolls his eyes.

"She was totally into you."

Sam scoffs, folding his paper over so as to focus on a specific story, "So here's the deal, eleven kids have gone missing in the last 72 hours. No evidence of a break-in, no fingerprints, nothing for the police to go on. It's like they just disappeared into thin air."

"So what are we thinking: Pied Piper?" Dean smiles, silently laughing at his own joke.

Sam stares blankly at his brother. At times it would be better if he could just take hunting seriously. It feels like all he ever does is make light of horrible or grotesque situations. However, he was right to question the motives of whoever or whatever was responsible. With everything they've seen these past years, anytime children begin to disappear is always the start to something serious. Even as a child himself, that red eye's bastard, Azazel, had doomed his family, taken his mother, and outlined the destiny of the Winchesters. It would have been simple for that demon to have kidnapped and raised him far away from the life of a hunter. He had been fortunate. Fortunate to have a father who understood the otherworldly. Fortunate to have a brother to continue the family business. Fortunate to have discovered Azazel's plan and put an end to it before it was too late for him. His knee shakes at the thought of those deathly, red eyes glowing against the dark of night. Could it be him? Could it be Azazel, back after all these years? Since they last saw him they've come up against stronger and more dangerous foes. Demons, Ghosts... Clowns... every otherworldly presence the general populous could only dream up in their deepest nightmares. To make it worse, Bobby wasn't there to help them this time.

"Yo, Sammy. You there?"

He's quickly pulled back to reality with the sound of his brother's voice. Feeling his knee still shaking, he rubs a hand over his thigh to calm it, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about," maybe he shouldn't tell Dean what he was thinking about. There was just as much a chance that this had nothing to do with Azazel, more even. He had to do more research before he could share any possibilities or create any strategies. They hadn't even begun their investigation. Looking up, the tungsten glow of the headlight reflected off a large green sign. Sam read aloud, "Welcome to Muskego, we're almost there."

"Yeah, I hear ya'. First order of business lets find a motel with a bar."

"Wouldn't it be best for us to check with some of the families?"

"Seriously? Look around; it's way after midnight. Everyone's gonna be asleep. Even if they were still awake, they wouldn't be with-it enough to give us a the info we needed."

"The police, then."

With a groan, Dean begrudgingly agrees. It only makes sense, the disappearances all happened well before dawn. The cops on shift now would more than likely be the same ones who responded to the original reports. He starts to see the city lights just a few miles out. Why did it have to be kids. He can deal with dead businessmen all day, hauntings, angels, but kids were another story. He's always tried to be a protector to his younger brother, but be couldn't always save him. Maybe if he had just left him to finish school, left him to marry that girl of his, start a family, maybe then it would have been best for him. If he'd never shown up that day maybe Sam wouldn't have felt all the pain, all the heartache. They'd been through a lot as a family and now they were truly alone. They've lost everyone close to them: Their mother, their father, Bobby amongst other hunters. Hell, even they've both technically died and come back. The life of a hunter is a dangerous one, but one with honor. Sacrifice was just part of the job.

Sam's muscular finger rolls over the roadmap. Dean hadn't even noticed when he picked it up.

Folding the map, Sam taps on the paper, "There. It's just around the corner."

"Huh? What is?"

An awkward laugh breaches Sam's asymmetrical smile, "The police station. We were just talking about heading there."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. The cops. Sorry, I must just be a little tired." He spins the steering wheel to turn at the light, just as it turns red. He rolls through it continuing on the main road Sam had just pointed out.

"You know, we can stop by that motel first if you really need a rest."

"No, no. You're right. The cops are the right stop." Dean grabs a half emptied bottle of mouthwash off the dashboard, ripping open the cap and tossing a swig back in his mouth to swish.

"What was that?"

He spits the contents out the window, "The cops, you know, incase I've still got some booze on my breath. What well respecting FBI agent drinks on the job, right?"

"Yeah," he turns away, rolling his eyes with a at the thought, "you've got a point, I guess."

* * *

The door to the police opens loudly, crashing against a tall wooden hat stand. Leaves of the night rush in on the dark wood floor, rolling to glass and steel table emblazoned with the logo of the Muskego police. A uniformed officer sits, filling out paperwork.

The brothers, now dressed in the black suits from the trunk, confidently approach the front desk and present their fake FBI badges. Dean stares through the glass partition behind the officer sitting before them. An army of desks and filing cabinets crowd the large open room, by far outnumbering the uniformed officers pacing the floor with reports in their hands.

"Special Agents Angus and Young here to investigate the recent disappearances." Sam explains, as they both quickly close their badge cases before the officer has the chance to look too close.

The officer drops his pen, making eye contact with them both, "Oh, yes, of course." Carefully stepping up, he gestures his arm back, "We were expecting you."

Dean, taken back, utters "You, you were?"

"Yes, of course. We just didn't expect you to arrive so soon, we only called your offices a few hours ago."

Startled at the news that the FBI has already been called out, Sam feels it's best to gain as much information as they can and head out. It's always complicated when they have to impersonate FBI agents while surrounded by real ones. "Right, yes. Well, we're just here for some initial info so we can get started."

"Of course. The Lieutenant is just back that way." He rolls his arm as if to accentuate his gesturing.

A tall, broad man in his late forties pokes his head up from a desk to acknowledge them. He waves them over with his hand.

The brothers' hard soled shoes tap against the waxed wood flooring. It is plain that during the day this room is full of hard working individuals looking out for the safety and well being of the community. They've been in hundreds of police stations, never before have they seen one so clean, or so well funded. If the coffee's half decent, they'd know a demon was somehow involved. Who were they kidding, it's a police station - the capital of bad coffee. Not even a demon can change that, there isn't even a reason to try.

"Agents," The man appears to get even bigger the closer they get. His voice deep and intimidating. "I'm Lieutenant McGraw, good to meet you."

Dean turns to chuckle, "McGraw." Sam glares back at him, elbowing him in the ribs. The desk before them littered with over a dozen brown file folders. Photos of children, various ages and genders, lined the edge of the desk.

"I was just going through all the files for any linking factors."

Sam squints, "Wait, I'm counting fourteen children. The press said it was only eleven."

"Yes, there were only eleven that we made public. These last few are from some more influential families that asked us to keep their disappearances under the radar. There doesn't seem to be any common factor between them. Rich, poor. Blonde, brunette. Boys, girls. That's why we called you out here, we figured the FBI might have some better ideas."

Dean drops a hand down on the desk, "Of course, we'll have to take these with us to review. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, of course. We're happy to provide you with anything you need to make the investigation run smoothly."


End file.
